


The Queen's Nightmare (Thor x asgardian!reader)

by DomesticatedTendencies



Series: A Queen Protects Her King [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: Asgardian Reader (Marvel), Asgardians - Freeform, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bifrost, Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hair Braiding, Heimdall's sight, King Thor, Loki being Loki, Mentions of Mass Murder, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pregnancy, Protective Thor (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Tender Thor, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticatedTendencies/pseuds/DomesticatedTendencies
Summary: "Now come rest your head on my lap.”You quirked a brow at your husband as he moved to sit with his back to the headboard. The God and King was about as subtle as a blow from Stormbreaker.“Really wife, get your mind out of the gutter,” Thor teased, patting his leg. “I mean only to help you relax.”“Mhm,” You murmured, suspicious though you moved towards him anyway.“Don't you think if that were my intention I might come up with a better way to go about it?”Your cheek twitched in a wan smile as you lay curled on your side, your head pillowed by his mighty thigh. “With you, elskede, there is no telling.”





	The Queen's Nightmare (Thor x asgardian!reader)

Silver mist danced across the smooth lake, curling around your ankles as the water lapped at your toes, tempting you like a sirens song.

The hem of your shift was dark with mud as your feet stuck in the craggy shore. You considered the lake for a moment, thinking you might like a quick wash but not trusting the red tinge of the water. You stepped back from the bank.

The lake was surrounded by a lush wood, dark and ominous. You did not know this place nor did you want to.

Smoke scented the air. It stung your eyes. Tears streaked your cheeks. Low branches grabbed at your nightclothes with their witches fingers and you stumbled, your palms scraping as you caught yourself against a trees trunk and you cried out.

You became aware of the sound of your breath coming in short little pants. There was a flurry of wings and you looked up to see a murder of crows. Feeling as though your heart might beat from your chest, you began to count.

Five for laughing,  
Six for crying.  
Seven for sickness,  
Eight for dying.

Your heart sank.

Suddenly, a women’s wail sliced through the air. Taking up the hem of your nightgown you started to run, your bare feet slapping against the damp earth as the birds continued to circle overhead.

There was a break in the trees and you came skidding to a stop. You were panting heavily now, leaning against a tree as you struggled to catch your breath. And beside you, kneeling in the dirt was the woman whose cry you had heard, weeping into her filthy apron.

You looked to her, perplexed. She wore the rags of a peasant; her head covered by a crocheted kerchief. You did not know her or why she was in the horrid place but when she looked up at you, you knew her pain.

“Mother, why do you cry?” You asked softly.

She choked on a sob, her hand trembling as she pointed into the clearing, and she let out another piercing scream.

The pyre was built higher than even the trees. You could feel the heat of the fire, smell the rancid char of burning flesh. You blinked back fresh tears as you watched in horror as the bodies burn.

“No,” it came out a hoarse whisper as you struggled to comprehend, then clearer as outrage filled your soul. “No! Stop! Stop this at once!”

But your cries fell on deaf ears. The pyre only grew as the murder continued their woeful cry.

You heard your name, gentle at first and then more urgently as Thor attempted to rouse you.

“Wake up,” He coaxed, his deep voice skating on the verge of panic. “Look at me.”

At the kings command your eyes sprang open and a gasp tore from your throat.

Thor’s hair was sticking up in little tuffs and his brow etched in worry. Placing a warm hand over your belly, you knew he was taking inventory of the budding life that had taken residence there, feeling what even you could not at this early stage.

With a sigh, he smiled. “It was just a dream.”

Your blood still pounding in your ears, you swatted his hand away and pushed yourself upright in the bed. You could still smell the smoke, feel the heat of the flames, and you launched yourself from the bed as though it itself were on fire.

“It was more than just a damned dream!” You cried.

Thor blinked, stunned. Never had he seen you so overwrought nor heard you utter such a sharp word. The stricken look on his face was almost enough to stop you in your tracks.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to make light of what troubles you. I was merely relieved. The way you were crying and thrashing about, I -,” His brow furrowed as he hesitated, his voice dropping. “I feared you were in pain.”

At this, what little remained of your resolve crumbled and you sank to the side of the bed. With your face in your hands like the woman in your dream, you wept.

“Oh,” Your husband breathed. “Oh my sweet one – _min kjære_ – Come here.”

Rather than balk at your sudden outpour of emotion he greeted it with open arms. Wrapping you in his safe embrace he crooned sweet words of comfort in your ear until the tears began to subside.

With your head on his chest, he tucked his chin in to look down at you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hiccoughing like a child, you shook your head no.

“That's alright, you don't have to,” He soothed. His blunt fingers working through your loose hair, he pressed his lips to your crown. “Was it about the baby?” He asked almost timidly.

Closing your eyes, your mind returned to those innocent dream children being fed the fire. Their faces twisted in pain as their screams were lost in the roar of the flames. You took a shuttering breath and suddenly the words you didn't want to say came tumbling out.

As Thor listened the groove between his brow grew deeper. He did not interrupt or even try to stop you when you repeated things you had already said. The lake, the crows, the woods. You told him everything, and by the time you were through you found the eye that had watched you so intently had turned dark and stormy.

“This is my fault,” He said after taking several moments to contemplate the meaning of your nightmare. “Forcing you these past weeks to practice with your blade when clearly your mind is occupied with your impending motherhood. It's no wonder you're tormented by dreams of children you cannot protect.”

You pulled back from him. With your eyes raw from crying, you shook your head.

“Its not that,” You told him, your voice course and lacking in refinement. “This felt like… like some sort a warning.”

He frowned. “You said you did not recognize these woods – that they were not of Asgard?”

Again you shook you head, no.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he released a heavy breath. You could see that for your sake he was carefully considering his words, something he was not often known for, and despite everything your heart swelled for it.

“You know for years I was haunted by visions of our people's extinction – of Ragnarok – and yet still we are here.”

But his nightmares had not been wrong. Hela had come. People had died. Asgard had teetered on the edge of Ragnarok when the king made his felicitous return.

He attempted to sooth your quivering lip with a stroke of his thumb.

“It felt so real,” You whispered.

Thor gave a sympathetic nod. “I know, sweetheart. And I promise first thing tomorrow I will speak of this with Heimdall. If there is any truth to it surely he will know. Now come rest your head on my lap.”

You quirked a brow at your husband as he moved to sit with his back to the headboard. The God and King was about as subtle as a blow from Stormbreaker.

“Really wife, get your mind out of the gutter,” He teased, patting his leg. “I mean only to help you relax.”

“Mhm,” You murmured, suspicious though you moved towards him anyway.

“Don't you think if that were my intention I might come up with a better way to go about it?”

Your cheek twitched in a wan smile as you lay curled on your side, your head pillowed by his mighty thigh. “With you, _elskede_ , there is no telling.”

You could feel his laugh as much as hear it. It rolled through you like a gentle wave as you felt the knot of apprehension in your stomach begin to unwind.

Smoothing the fine hairs back from your face, he started rubbing slow circles into your scalp. With a sigh, you closed your eyes. Not stopping in his ministrations, he leaned over to plant a chaste kiss on your temple.

“How's that?” He asked, his breath warm across your cheek.

You only hummed.

“Good,” He straightened up, sounding pleased. “As a boy whenever I woke in the night my mother would have me lay my head her lap and she would sing.”

“Do you intend to serenade me?” You asked, opening an eye to look up at him.

Separating the hair around your ear in to sections, he snorted.“Ack no. My singing would make your ears bleed. I'd rather not subject you or the belly dweller to that particular form of torture.”

You imagined the baby burrowing in your womb in an attempt to hide from his father’s great booming voice and you smiled, closing your eyes once more.

The room was quiet, the silence comfortable, and neither of you felt the need to break that. Thor's fingers were surprisingly nimble as he plaited your hair and you focused on the sensation.

“Sleep,” He urged gently, as though he knew right when you were about to slip the moorings of consciousness. “I am here. I promise to let no truth come of your nightmares. Just sleep.”

And trusting him, you did.

____________________________________________

  
You had asked for this. Stubbornly. Insistently. You had argued that your lessons should not be put on hold just because of one poor nights sleep. So now you stood glaring up at your husband, the tip of your dagger poised at his belly while he held your free wrist in his hand.

“You held back,” He accused. “Again.”

“You’re not wearing armor and to injure the king would be high treason,” You complained.

Thor snorted. Releasing one wrist to grab the other, he tugged your arm so that the blade in your hand whispered over his shirt.

“Follow through,” He ordered, and then with a playful grin. “If I can't outmaneuver a maiden then I deserve to feel the bite of the blade.”

You pulled free of his grasp. “Do I still appear a maiden to you?”

He chuckled. Wrapping an arm around your waist he dragged you to him, uncaring that you were standing on the outskirts of the training fields with an audience of fifty of his best warriors and several of your ladies.

“No. You look like a queen with my heir in your belly and if I’m not mistaken the mark of my teeth on your breast.”

With a callused finger he made a show of attempting to slip the neck of your dress lower. Laughing, you slapped his hand away.

“Honestly Thor,” You chided, rolling your eyes.

“Honestly wife,” He mocked before sobering. “You mustn't get in the habit of holding back. In fact you should know what it feels like to… Loki! Brother, come here!”

You looked over your shoulder to see the God of mischief standing off to the side with one of the young maids, his hands clasped behind his back and his mouth half open as Thor interrupted his conversation. Coolly, he looked over at the two of you.

“I am not letting your wife stab me,” He stated drolly.

“Of course not,” Thor smirked. “She doesn't need you to let her do anything. Just come here a moment.”

Loki's glacial eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Come now brother, don’t be a spoil sport. How else will she learn?”

“I’m not stabbing Loki,” You told him.

“You’re sure? I think you'd rather enjoy it. I know I do.”

The arch of your eyebrow paired with the unamused purse of your lips only made him laugh.

“Well alright,” He said, kissing your forehead. “Perhaps the kitchen could loan us a boar carcass. The feel is…”

Whatever he had meant to say was forgotten as he squinted in the midday sun. Curious, you followed his line of sight to find the sparring men parting to make way for Heimdall who moved with great purpose through the field, the expression on his face grim.

“Perhaps you should take your ladies inside,” Thor said, his voice low.

Your eyes flicked up to his face. “If I may, I’d like to stay.”

His jaw as tight as his hold on your waist, the king nodded once in assent.

“Your Majesties,” Heimdall greeted you both. With a hand over his stomach he gave a short bow.

“What news do you bring us?” Thor asked, having no patience for formalities.

The guardian cast a wary look your way. Clearly what he had to say was not to be spoken in mixed company but with the kings hand firmly upon your waist, Heimdall ventured forth.

“It is as you feared,” He answered. “An invading race waging war on an otherwise peaceful planet.”

Under Heimdall's watch you covered your middle as though to shield the baby from the blow of the news.

“They plan to slaughter all males over the age of ten – some as young as eight if they appear stout enough to pose a threat. The rest they intend to enslave.”

Thor's hold on you tightened as you stifled a gasp.

“Has this already started?” He asked. “Can nothing be done to stop it?”

“They are far outside the reaches of the nine realms,” Heimdall explained. “I myself could hardly see it. If not for the queen's guidance, I may not have.”

“But can it be stopped?” Thor demanded, his tone harsh enough to cause you to flinch.

“Perhaps,” Heimdall answered thoughtfully. “If one was to hurry. But even if I could get you there I cannot guarantee that the Bifrost will be able to bring you back nor can I insure the protection of my sight. It's just too far.”

You chanced a look up at your king, and him down at you. It felt as though your heart were in your throat and your stomach somewhere near your feet. Without him saying a word, you knew he would go.

“If there is even a chance that I can prevent it…” He said, speaking just to you.

Your eyes burned as they had from the sting of the smoke from the funeral pyres.

“I know,” You whispered.

“I will find my way back,” He assured, his gaze dropping to your belly. “I promise you both that I will.”

“I know.” Your throat was tight with emotion as you choked on words you didn't know how to speak outside the privacy of your own bedchamber. “Thor, I…”

He ran his fingers over your ear, attempting to smooth back the hairs that had broken free of the braid he had fashioned in the night. It may not have been the most stylish but you wore it proudly and when his fingers reached the end of the plait, he gave a little tug.

“I know, _min kjære_. I know.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, another to your forehead, and then just like that he was gone. Striding across the practice field, carrying with him all the confidence of a king as well as the burden.

It would take him less than an hour to rally a small troop of less than twenty men. Alone on the balcony you listened to the steady rhythm of their boots as your husband led them across the rainbow bridge. You didn't know it then but it would be more than five months before anyone saw them again, and by then their ranks would be cut in half.


End file.
